Lest We Forgive
by Youmayaswellsayit
Summary: When the Cylons launch their assault on the Colonies, the Battlestar Vanir is preoccupied with repairing damage inflicted upon it's FTL drive by the negligence of it's Chief Engineer and resulting malfunction. They're safe, to begin with anyway.
1. Act 1

**Lest We Forgive**

**Battlestar Vanir – Crew:**

Admiral Claire Damms– CO

Colonel Jordan Samuels – XO

Major Adam Shatford – Second Officer

Captain Nathan Argeus – CAG

Junior Lieutenant Cieran Bradshaw – Tactical Officer

Chief Petty Officer Tory Howard – Communications Officer

Senior Chief Petty Officer Leona Beast – Deck Chief

Lieutenant Barry Milone – Chief Engineer

**Timeline**

Day 0 – Cylon surprise attack on the Twelve Colonies of Kobol.

**ACT 1 – THE HAND WE'RE DEALT**

== [Message Begins] ==

THIS IS THE BATTLESTAR VANIR, BSG94

ID AUTHENTICATION CODE: 447-R27

REQUESTING IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

CURRENT STATUS:

FTL DRIVE [OFF-LINE]

LIFESUPPORT [ON-LINE]

DAMAGE CTRL [ON-LINE]

WEAPONS CTRL [ON-LINE]

NAVIGATION [OFF-LINE]

REQUESTING IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

== [Message Ends] ==

**[Combat Information Centre]**

"Admiral on deck!" Announced the executive officer as the doors slid closed with the usual groan behind the ship's commanding officer.

"Sit rep," Demanded Admiral Damms, strolling forward and staring up at the DRADIS console, his eyes jumping from screen to screen examining the different aspects of the ship's status.

"FTL drive is off-line, repair crews have compiled a list of requirements and requested additional specialists, and distress signal is transmitting data and message. We received a response from Colonial Fleet Headquarters, Picon, acknowledging the distress signal – repair crews and requested resupply will arrive shortly." Explained Lieutenant Bradshaw reading off a computer tablet, a couple of finger taps later the Lieutenant continued talking.

"ETA is estimated to be in six hours for the first ships."

The Admiral rubbed the back of her head, her hand throwing her long blonde hair about. Her eyes cautiously examined DRADIS, there was nothing there except her own Vipers on Combat Air Patrol.

"Okay, notify the flight deck and the CAP that we're expecting incoming support ships. Inform the Supply Officer that we'll need spare racks for guests. I'll be in my quarters reviewing the malfunction report, have Lietenant Milone brought to my quarters, I want to discuss his report before any Court Martial paperwork gets filed." Ordered theAdmiral, stepping back and strolling round the Command and Control Station, her eyes flicking from station to station, observing the Combat Information Centre's staff.

"You have the deck Colonel."

The glass doors of the CIC rotated with the usual mechanical grinding noise, separating out from what had been a bullet-proof wall, imprinted with the Colonial Seal upon each panel, upon the middle of the three glass windows that formed the door, into a sectioned opening.

With her hands swinging loosely by her sides the Admiral walked out, her hair bouncing with each step, lacking the seriousness of its host.

The doors turned, spinning on the spot until they aligned perfectly.

The tall, muscular, brunette Executive Officer, Colonel Jordan Samuels strolled to the other side of the Command and Control Station so his back was to the glass wall. Pulling the phone hand-set out of its slot he raised it to his head.

"Brig, Combat. Transport prisoner to CO's quarters. Say again, transport prisoner to CO's quarters. Hanger Deck, prepare for inbound traffic." Said the Colonel, he heard his voice ringing throughout the Battlestar's various compartments, decks and walkways before replacing the hand-set and resuming his watch.

**[Brig]**

The double red doors of the hatch slid open as two marines, fully clad in body armour, laden with weapons and ammunition on various belts and with various other pockets bulging with unknown contents.

The two marines already present stepped away from their posts, flanking the central glass panel allowing the observation of the prisoner. With all four men facing the panel, a single stepped forward, pulled out a swipe card and ran it vertically through a slot mounted on the dividing steel wall between the central and right glass window.

"Identity confirmed." Announced the ship's mainframe, with a bleep and a hiss, the central glass panel slid left revealing on its edge a corrugated side to the metal frame in which it sat. The doorway now open, the marines raised their weapons in a defensive manner, directing them at the prisoner.

"Sir," The marine didn't give instruction or explanation, the brig wasn't left out from ship-wide comm. chatter. The slightly balding, short, aged man who had been sitting patiently inside the holding cell on the lower bunk of one of two bunk beds stood up, dusted off his officer's uniform and strode forward.

"Yeah I'm coming Sergeant." Grumbled the man, the Lieutenant rank pip's on his collar glistened slightly in the light as the marines escorted him out of the room, through the red double doors and down the corridor.

Navigating a labyrinth of corridors, hatches and bulkheads, the group eventually arrived at Admiral Damm's quarters. The first two marines took positions flanking the doorway, signalling the doors to open. The Lieutenant and marines stepped through the open doorway into a large spacious office with other rooms leading off the far side of it, through a separate doorway.

Stood, arms crossed, behind the desk with her back to her guests was the Admiral, four screens were embedded in the wall in front of her, each displaying different things. Shown left to right were the duty roster for the Vanir's engineering crew, maintenance logs for the last week, damage control from the master system's display – highlighting the FTL drive and engineering section in red, and a statement from the Lieutenant stood behind her, taken three days ago.

"Lieutenant Milone, do you know why you've left your cell?" Asked Admiral Damms, as she turned to face the Lieutenant and pulling back the leather chair behind the desk before settling comfortably in it and crossing one leg over the other.

"I think so Admiral, I think you want to review maintenance logs and the damage to the FTL jump drive in comparison to my statement sir."

The Admiral's plane expression twisted into a smirk.

"I know what happened Lieutenant... negligence." Admiral Damms spoke then leant back in her chair before continuing.

"You preferred to allow your subordinates to do their work unchecked, now a novice engineer was left to complete tasks without them being checked and a minor fault led to, over time, a bigger problem."

Lieutenant Milone jumped as Admiral Damms slammed her hand down on her desk.

"Vanir's fracking FTL drive is off-line! This is a Colonial Battlestar and we are stranded on patrol, because my Chief Engineer got sloppy! Now, this might be a waste of your time, but I wanted to bitch at you before sending you back to your cell. Alternatively, I got have you restrained and gagged then loaded onto a Raptor to be jumped to Picon for Court-Martial, but then that leaves the rest of us out here... in your mess," Ranted the Admiral, leaning back and softening her tone a little as she spoke.

"As soon as our FTL drive is operational, and my request is approved, we'll get you to a planet based cell. But until then, I hope we can meet your standards – and don't be surprised if you're dragged out to try and fix some of the problems your negligence caused."

The Admiral let out a long sigh, before gesturing to the marines for them to remove the Lieutenant.

"After you sir," Said the larger of the two men, gesturing towards the door.

A moment later the Admiral was left alone in her office, to further develop her report and annotate the appropriate files, prior to any legal proceedings.

**[Combat Information Centre]**

"DRADIS contact, Colonial transponder. It's a Raptor sir." Announced Major Shatford, the ship's second officer, reading off the DRADIS map.

"Challenge for authentication codes, then clear for landing in the port dorsal bay." Ordered the Colonel, reading off the same map he picked up the computer tablet he'd been reading off, flicking through the day's paper-work.

The order was carried out, and after a couple of moments making the appropriate security checks, the matter was no longer a CIC problem and was instead handled by the landing bay crews.

"Major, have that specialist crew escorted to the engineering section straight away. The Admiral wants FTL." Added the Colonel, taking no notice of the new arrivals he continued with his work and let his subordinates do theirs, it was the nature of things. The Admirals said what she wanted, the Colonel gave orders, the crew followed them.

"DRADIS contacts, three ships, colonial transponders. Look like our new support ships." Announced the tactical officer, five new symbols had appeared on the DRADIS map, each with a name and number, each constantly monitored for movement or change.

"We're receiving a signal sir."

The Colonel side stepped to the nearest phone hand-set, "Put it through."

_== "Vanir, BSS-231, requested permission to begin scheduled supply run." ==_

_"BSS-231, Vanir, permission granted, begin docking procedures." _Replied the Colonel over the wireless, he turned to the Major, "Supervise the resupply, I'll inform the Admiral in person."

"Aye sir."

The Colonel walked out of CIC, the glass wall opening and closing behind him as he made his way round a corner and down the corridor. Colonel Samuels had only recently been promoted to the position of Executive Officer, prior to that he was Commander Air Group aboard another Battlestar but Admiral Damms wanted fresh blood, someone completely new to command under he experienced wing, Samuels missed the cock-pit.

Eventually arriving in the Admiral's quarters he walked straight in and sat down at her desk opposite her. "They're here."

"Well that's good," Greeted the Admiral, she'd always been a lot more relaxed with her XO than anyone else, they contrasted well and so she let him off for disregarding protocol every so often. "I presume they're already at work?"

"That's right sir, I've yet to receive a report but a Raptor and five supply ships have arrived, according to the forms they're transferring excess ammunitions aboard along with the usual supplies now, I left Shatford in command." Explained Samuels, "Oh and apparently..."

The action stations klaxon sounded.

"Okay before I forget, we need to talk about your fraternisation... yes I know about you and Lieutenant Dakes, but relax, just want to talk about it."

== "Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship, this is not a drill. Action stations, actions stations." ==

"What the frack?" Exclaimed Claire Damms, jumping out of her chair she grabbed the phone. Barely a moment had passed since she was soothing the nerves of her right hand man and now her features were hard, her expression serious and her tone of voice demanding.

"Combat, sit rep."

_== "Admiral, Priority One message from Fleet Headquarters." ==_ Replied a voice down the line, the Admiral could hear the level of apprehension in his voice, a level of fear building, riddled with confusion.

"I'm on my way," And with that she raced out of the door with her XO hot on her heels, she wasn't far off running.

The Admiral, in her fifties came running round the corner into view of CIC and as the doors opened and she stepped inside, the Colonel arrived too, following her inside. Without having to say a word, Petty Officer darted to her from their station carrying a computer tablet, on it was displayed a document, layed out like a telegram.

== [MESSAGE BEGINS] ==

PRIORITY ONE

FROM COLONIAL FLEET HEADQUARTERS

CYLON ATTACK ON 12 COLONIES UNDERWAY

HEAVY LOSSES SUSTAINED - CAP, GEM, TAU, VIR, LEO,

PURGE CNP PROGRAM - COMPROMISED

AWAIT ARRIVAL OF SURVIVORS/REFUGEES

ATTACK ON REM COLONIES CONSIDERED IMMINENT

== [MESSAGE ENDS] ==

Admiral Damms read it through several times before passing it over to Colonel Samuels, he shook his head in disbelief, rapping his fingers on the screen he dragged up and checked the message's authenticity, it couldn't be right, after forty years of peace, it just couldn't.

"Admiral, it's authentic." Commented the tactical officer, Samuels looked around the room, everyone looked broken, not knowing what to believe, not wanting to believe the message was true.

The Admiral had braced herself with her hands on the Command and Control Station in front of her, staring down at her boots with curtains of long blonde hair shielding her expression from view, she didn't feel like an Admiral, she just felt like Claire - a woman from Scorpia.

"Admiral..." Said the Colonel, if the commanding officer couldn't handle the news, the ship and crew had no hope. "Admiral Damms!"

Whipping her her back and out of her face, the Admiral straightened up, placing her hands on her hips she tried to steady herself, hide her shaking hands from the surrounding crew and officers.

"Give me ship wide." Ordered the Admiral, reaching forward and picking up the hand-set. The communications officer, Chief Petty Officer Tory Howard , nodded to the Admiral with tears in her eyes.

The Admiral's words rang out throughout the gargantuan Battlestar as she spoke so all across the ship, everyone aboard could hear her.

_== "This is the Admiral, I regret to inform that a few minutes ago, we received a message informing us that a massive Cylon attack against our homeworlds is underway. The death toll is unknown, the extent of the damage is unknown, but it is reasonable to assume that within the coming hours, the colonies that have not been struck, will be. Our orders are to remain at our current location and surviving vessels will be routed here. As such, we can expect Cylon attack. Arm yourselves, stay alert and we'll get through this - we were all trained for this, we're a team, a family; and even if our families don't survive, we'll punish those who took them from us, I promise you that... Updates as we get them." ==_

After replacing the hand-set the Admiral turned slowly to face her XO, "Colonel, I know you didn't want this job, but I need you to be the best damned XO possible right now."

Samuels felt a huge weight fall on his shoulders, he could see that beneath her hardened outside, his commanding officer was falling apart like everyone else, they needed to support each other for the sake of everyone else aboard.

"Yes sir." Replied Samuels, he turned to face the command and control station. "I recommend deploying three raptors, to broaden DRADIS range and tripling the CAP, I also think we should double the crew working on the FTL drive, current estimates put repair at three days. We need to half that."

"I agree, Major, double repair crews, have all technicians begin work on the CNP, triple the CAP and ready three Raptors to reinforce DRADIS. Deploy, here, here, and here." She moved her finger across the map on the station table, showing where to place their Raptors.

The Major ran back to his station, picked up a phone and began tapping instructions with one hand into the computer console whilst conveying instructions to other members of the crew.

Admiral Damms grabbed the Colonel's arm and pulled him to one side, hoping no one would hear them.

"We're at war Colonel, this is going to be messy and I need you to be able to do what's necessary, regardless of how you feel... I doubt the Fleet will survive much longer, our technicians are working on the Command Navigation Program but there's no way it got purged from all ship's on the front line in time. We may find ourselves alone out here, and that means that you may one day step up to command. Shape up." Whispered the Admiral into Samuels' ear, a knot forming in his stomach and ever tightening with each morbid clause.

"Yes sir."


	2. Act 2

**ACT 2 – STEPPING UP**

**[XO's Quarters]**

The sound of his alarm buzzing filled his ears and so, Colonel Jordan Samuels stirred, rolling onto his left side his eyes fluttered open. He rolled back onto his back gazing up at the plated ceiling, his eyes flicking from each of the struts lining the ceiling, working from right to left along the ceiling.

His visions was blurred, his eyes red and his face tear stained. He looked round, allowing his eyes to adjust and for the stinging to subside, even through the dark he could make out a small stack of papers on his bedside table. The memory hit him, shock grasped him and he felt his heart sink. Jordan had spent half the night awake, reading the incoming reports of the death toll and damage inflicted by the Cylons, the Colonies had been decimated.

After three days of waiting since the initial declaration of war, Admiral Claire Damms, commanding officer of the Battlestar Vanir had dismissed many of the crew, ordering them to get some rack time. The Executive Officer was no exception, with the Second Officer covering his watch.

Lying on his back the Colonel stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache, the anger and the desperate desire to curl up and give in. Just as he started to feel like compelling himself to get up, remembering that his alarm had gone off for a reason, he felt an arm reach across his torso, gripping his side firmly.

Jordan peered round just as he felt stubble brush his skin as a head crept onto his chest, resting lazily. Jordan wrapped his arm round the shoulders of his bed companion before exchanging a brief kiss.

"Time to get up, it's my watch." Said Jordan, pulling himself out from under his lover and climbing out of bed Jordan walked over towards his private en suite.

"If I might use share your shower, sir." Asked the man, he had short brown hair, spiked slightly with the remnants of the previous day's style, and two days worth of stubble on his face. The man was stood naked in the middle of the XO's quarters, and having slept with the XO the previous night was still somehow finding a way of blending in normal protocol.

"Permission granted."

**[CIC]**

The panels pivoted, opening the gateway into the Combat Information Centre as the Vanir's Commander Air Group strolled in only to stop beside the Colonel and salute him.

Colonel Samuels turned to face the CAG, returned the salute before picking up a card folder off of the command and control station and handing it to him.

The man looked completely different in uniform, only an hour ago he had been just man with a name, not rank or position. But now the times had changed, they were on duty, they were officers of the Colonial Fleet – the muscular but none the less slender Captain Nathan Argeus and the similarly built Colonel Jordan Samuels were officers, friends, but could be nothing more, publicly.

"Deployment orders have changed," Greeted the Colonel, the CAG took the folder and skimmed the opening page before closing it and holding it by his side.

"Is there anything else sir?" Asked the Captain as he waited patiently beside the Colonel.

"That is all Captain, dismissed..."

A klaxon cut across the Colonel as four contacts appeared on the DRADIS console, "Sit rep."

The Tactical Officer took a moment to catch his bearings, dashing to a console before reporting, "Four Colonial, six, twelve Colonial transponder signals... it's a fleet of refugee's sir."

The Colonel stared at the DRADIS blankly, the CAG was still stood beside him.

"They survived..." He murmured, staring is disbelief, the first spark of happiness he'd felt in days warmed him slightly, before the cool temperament of duty took him.

"Stand down to Condition 2, launch alert vipers... form a defensive perimeter around the fleet." Ordered Samuels, he waved away Captain Argeus just as the Admiral entered the room.

"Sit rep." Demanded the Admiral speaking as she took her station. The XO walked round the table and stopped opposite her, waiting for a full report from the tactical officer.

"Twelve vessels, four military vessels, eight civilian ships; nine hundred military personnel, three thousand two hundred and eight civilians," Reported the Tactical Officer, reading the report off of a screen.

"Right, get marine teams ready, I want each ship searched... and alert sick-bay, they may be needed," Instructed the Admiral, smiling up at DRADIS and the arrival of the survivors as she spoke.

"Look Colonel, we're not alone."

The Colonel smiled, gazing into the Admiral's eyes, they were glistening with ready tears.

**[Hangar Deck]**

The Colonel strolled onto the hangar deck, overseeing the arrival of people, supplies and equipment.

Taking in the features of each individual's face, clothes, and luggage, he made his way across the deck looking for the Chief. As he crossed the large, packed space, he eventually came across a heavily built, burly woman, dressed in fluorescent orange overalls, who was speaking in a strong, husky, Aerilon accent.

"Chief! So much for a few people coming aboard," Called out the XO, fighting his way through a crowd towards the woman.

"Well we've got a fair few that's for sure sir. I don't have a clue what to do with them so I asked the marines to keep them here. But I could've sworn the same person got off of two Raptors... it's creepy." Explained the Chief, she had short red curly hair and was holding a clipboard piled high with forms under one arm.

"Relax, the Admiral is coming down to handle this personally, if only to reassure people... where are the twins?" Asked the Colonel, pivoting as he scanned the room, his eyes were searching for two identical faces.

"No idea sir, but two black men, well spoken but completely identical... and both registered with the same name and background." Answered the Chief flicking between various sheets on her clipboard.

"What was the name?"

"Doctor Simon O'Neill... exact same identity. I'd keep an eye on them Colonel." Added the Chief as the Colonel started walking away, the Colonel kept walking until he neared one of the doors leading off of the deck, it was flanked by two marines, each armed and directing their weapons towards the angry mob.

After swiping his ID card the Colonel stepped through the opening doorway, just to hear the sound of gun fire echo down the hallway and ring in his ears loudly. Samuels looked around, seeing a wall-mounted phone he pulled of the hand set off the wall.

"Security, XO, I need a marine team down here now!"

Pulling out his side-arm he ran towards the origin of the gun shot, as he neared a corner he flicked off the safety and cocked the weapon in his hands, raising it as he turned the corner ready. Two marines were already on the scene, one pinning a coloured civilian to the wall with hand cuffs already around his wrists and the other pointing his weapon at the prisoner. By the feet of the second marine was a dead man, identical in every way, except his clothing, to the prisoner.

As additional marines came pouring through a doorway onto the corridor, joining their comrades, the Colonel noticed a second body, this one, female with long blonde hair and a Colonial uniform.

Racing forward, Samuels holstered his weapon and knelt down beside the woman, his knees narrowly avoiding the growing pool of blood he checked for a pulse, something that had most likely already been done, but he had to be sure. His fingers pushed passed the Admiral rank pips towards her throat, to her artery, pressing down, her felt nothing. She was dead.

Leaning back, one hand smeared with blood, he paused to take in the scene. The Admiral lay face down, her hair soaked in blood and matted, he face and wrists were reddened, not only from blood, but from conflict. She'd struggled against her assailants, her right sleeve was torn slightly and her body had crumpled as she fell.

Emotion aside, life and duty had to go on.

"Secure him in the brig; get them both to sick-bay. I'll be in CIC." Ordered the Colonel, he climbed to his feet and turned to walk away, the blood from the two bodies had spread, the Admiral's had soaked into his uniform and was smeared upon his right hand. But he continued, onward to CIC.

The shock of the situation and drowned out everything else, he hadn't noticed the constant holler of the klaxon.

**[CIC]**

"Major, marines report the ship is secure, a prisoner has been taken, two dead. Bodies are being moved to sick-bay. Doctor Dualla has taken custody of the bodies." Reported Chief Petty Officer Tory Howard, the communications officer, from her station, sat beside a phone and console.

Major Adam Shatford, Vanir's second executive officer had the conn. He wasn't prepared for this next announcement.

The Executive officer, Colonel Jordan Samuels entered CIC and relieved the Major.

"Howard, give me ship wide." Ordered the Colonel, picking up the hand-set, the inter-com flicked on and the entire ship heard the Colonel's heavy, nervous breathing down the phone.

"This is the Commander, a few minutes ago Doctor Dualla released an official notice that Admiral Damms is dead. As of now, I am taking command and as per orders left in her personal file, am promoted to the rank of Commander. That is all." Announced the Commander, trying to hold back his anxiety, he was now one of the highest ranking officers in the fleet of survivors, but as commander of the Vanir, was in de facto command.

Slapping the hand-set back into position, the Commander turned to the Major.

"Congratulations, you're now the XO... you have the deck."

The newly promoted Commander turned to leave, fleeing the scene, making his way to the brig to get some answers.


End file.
